One Shot
by Mars on Fire
Summary: Tim's right-hand man Bill Pearce is wounded during a liquor store robbery. Takes place during Chapter 32 of Triangle. [One shot]


**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. Bill Pearce is my creation, Captain Sikone is the creation of Artemis Rex.

**A/N:** This is a missing POV from my fic Triangle. This takes place during chapter 32 of Triangle, so you may want to read that first.

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**One Shot**

_**Wednesday, May 18, 1966**_

Gunpowder.

Bill first learned what it smelled like from Pete Malcolm of all people. Pete would swipe a few of his old man's guns and bring them to a dirt clearing outside of town, let all the boys take turns shooting. Bill prided himself on being the best shot outside of Pete, even better than Tim. Once you smelled burnt gunpowder, you never forgot it.

Bill smelled it now, but it was mixed with the metallic smell of his own blood, and the sweetness of bourbon on his breath. He didn't think he'd forget the smell of his blood either.

"Tie your belt around like a tourniquet," Tim instructed calmly, walking toward Bill.

He had clamped his hand down on the wound in his leg out of sheer reflex, feeling the slickness of the blood soaking into his jeans.

"What the fuck's the matter with you!" Bill exclaimed through gritted teeth. "Shit!"

His leg felt like it was broken. When he was in jail once, a guy in the cell next door had been shot when he broke into someone's house and got a bullet for his troubles. He told Bill in great detail what it had been like, telling him how he didn't even realize he was shot, the pain coming an hour later like a freight train hitting him.

Bill realized now the man was a fucking liar.

He looked over at Tim and saw the revolver in his hand, pointed at the floor now instead of at him. He had recognized the cock of the hammer, thought it was a cop and had turned to make a joke to Tim. Only it was no joke - Tim had been holding the gun and took a shot at him before he could ask why.

"You ain't goin' to Vietnam, Bill," Tim said. "There ain't an induction board in the country that's gonna let a guy in that was wounded during the commission of a crime."

"What?!" Bill asked, struggling to get his belt off and around his thigh. His fingers felt numb and he couldn't use his other hand since it was clamped down on his leg to stop the bleeding.

Tim stepped over and grabbed the belt out of his hand.

"I think it's still in there," Bill said, struggling to speak. His teeth were gritted together so hard he wouldn't be surprised if he was filing them flat. Tim tightened the belt around his leg with a yank and Bill sucked in air, trying not to yell. "I can't fuckin' believe you."

"You ain't gonna listen to reason, then we do things the hard way," Tim said, using a voice Bill had only heard directed towards people they were fighting against. What the fuck had gotten into him?

"Listen to reason!" Bill exclaimed. "Jesus, it's the government. Even if I coulda talked my way out of it - "

Tim smiled tightly. "You still wanted to go."

"I can't fuckin' believe this," Bill said, closing his eyes slightly, then opened them in alarm. If he passed out, he was a goner. "You fuckin' shot me, Tim!"

"Well, it was for a good cause," Tim said.

A good cause? Alright, it was official, Tim Shepard had gone right 'round the bend.

"You're one crazy motherfucker, Shepard," Bill said. "I can't believe you fuckin' shot me."

"I'll call the cops as soon as I'm outta here," he said.

"You're leavin' me here?" Bill asked, feeling his throat tighten and the air get thinner. Tim couldn't leave. He'd die on the floor. What the hell was he aiming to do to him?

Tim crouched down beside him, his boots dangerously close to the pool of blood beneath him, growing larger every second.

"River Kings should be coming in here soon, they'll get picked up, too," Tim said.

Bill laughed. He'd been set up. Tim Shepard had fucking set him up.

"Cops'll be here in no time, get you to the hospital. I'll hang 'round, make sure of it," Tim told him.

Tim clapped a hand on Bill's shoulder and they locked gazes. Tim had set it up to take down the River Kings and keep Bill in Tulsa, all in one fell swoop. Bill had been itching for payback for a long time. Big Mikey Dean getting sent away for the armed robbery job was nothing. Big Mikey had been trying to take him down, and no one knew it but the Shepard gang.

Big Mikey set it up for Bill to be caught during a robbery. Tim found out and tipped Bill off and they turned the tables on the bastard. Bill laughed when Mikey'd gotten sentenced. If it weren't for Tim, Bill would've been in McAlester for fifteen years instead.

Tim had saved his ass then. Bill had repaid the favour, a few times over. He took the hit when O'Lafferty had found a rifle in the back of Tim's car. Of course, Tim had lost his stepfather's rifle over that one, but still. He'd probably done the most for Tim when he'd been in jail in Arkansas. Bill looked in on his mom, took charge of Curly and tried to corral Angela, which definitely wasn't an easy job. Hell, Tim owed _him_.

He just didn't think he liked it coming like this. Hell, he _wanted_ to go into the Army. He wasn't aiming to spend his whole life pulling petty crimes and never leaving the neighbourhood. He wanted to be out there in the world, setting up something big. He thought Tim did too.

Tim, who couldn't leave because of his family. Tim, who was trying to make the best of being stuck where he was. Tim, who was slowly building the gang up.

Bill looked up at Tim. The understanding was swift and sudden. Tim needed him here. Not just for the gang. He trusted him. Sometimes Bill forgot how hard earned that was, how easy it was to lose. He held out his hand, his car keys clutched in them. Tim took them without a word, got up, grabbed the gun and the bottle of bourbon. Bill noticed he only picked up bourbon when something was wrong.

"Tim," Bill said, his breathing laboured. He was feeling a little nauseous. "I'm gonna owe you one. I don't mean no favour, either. I'm gonna shoot your ass off."

He meant it too. Friend or not, Tim was getting a bullet one day. And eye for an eye was Tim's rule and that suited Bill just fine.

Tim grinned at him. "Fair enough."

Bill clutched his leg tighter, feeling weaker by the second. He heard the door out back close with a quiet click, and he was alone.

XXXX

Bill grasped his leg tighter and tried to shrug out of the plaid shirt he was wearing. He was so tired from getting the jacket off the shirt was proving to be too much trouble. He stopped struggling when he heard the sounds outside.

They were familiar to him. The sounds of someone trying to force a lock. Bill was lucky he was in an aisle off the main one, anyone looking in the window wouldn't be able to see him. As much as he'd rather be enjoying a beer at Buck's right about now, seeing the look on the River Kings' faces was going to be priceless.

It sure was taking them a long time. Amateurs.

Bill resumed his manoeuvring and got out of his shirt, then tried to tie it around his leg. He pressed down on the wound, sucking in air at the pain. It felt like Tim had shot him with a rocket launcher.

He listened for a moment; they still hadn't gotten the lock open. The River Kings must have some lousy guys with shit for brains. Any of the Shepard gang would've had it open by now. Hell, Tim would've belted anyone that took longer than twenty seconds to get any lock open.

Bill was finally rewarded with the sound of breaking glass, then the door opening and boots crunching on the glass littering the floor.

He kept quiet, knowing he had to give Tim some time to get the fuzz there. A pay phone was across the street a little; he'd bet good money Tim was nearby.

He heard the cackling laughter, then Ronnie Marshall's voice telling one of his boys to check the register and the other to pick up the crate near the front door and start loading the beer into it.

They don't even rob a liquor store right, Bill thought, having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Robbing a liquor store of beer in this state was pretty stupid, since it was either 3.2 or you bought room temperature beer that was higher alcohol content. Who the hell wanted to drink warm beer?

"It's empty," a voice said bear the front of the store.

"What?"

"The register's empty."

"Shit, maybe them Brumly boys got here first," another voice said.

"How? The door wasn't even forced," another voice said.

Boy, these guys sure were stupid.

He heard footsteps and readied himself with a smile. As the boy came around the corner, he slipped in Bill's blood and skidded around the floor.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed. He looked over and Bill grinned at him. "Ronnie! Shit, Ronnie, get over here!"

More footfalls and suddenly three faces were peering down at him.

"Howdy boys!" Bill said, doing his best to make his voice sound strong and calm.

"That's Bill Pearce," one of them said.

"Yep, it sure is," Ronnie said, crouching down. "What the hell are you doin' here all shot up Pearce? Some Brumly boy try and kill you?"

"Nope," Bill said cheerfully. He felt awfully sick, and for the first time in his life he was hoping the cops would show up. "I was walkin' by and I saw you boys breakin' in here, so I slipped in the back door to stop you. Then your buddy shot me."

"What?" Ronnie asked. "Just the three of us here, and ain't none of us shot you."

"Well, he ran off of course," Bill said. "Wouldn't be smart to stick around, what with the cops on their way."

"Shit, them Brumly boys set us up man!" one of the Ronnie's thugs said.

"We gotta get outta here," the other chimed in.

"Sorry, we ain't gonna be much help," Ronnie said, standing up and smirking at Bill. "Hope you don't keep leakin' all over the floor, don't look like you got much left in you."

"Fuck you," Bill said.

The three boys turned to run, trailing footprints in Bill's blood. They made it as far as the door when Captain Sikone showed up.

XXXX

"Well, what do we have here?" the booming voice said. "Looks like some hoods breaking into a liquor store to me."

Bill grinned despite the haziness he was feeling. Captain Sikone. Tim was just going to love this.

"Where's the blood coming from?" Sikone said next, his voice changing. It was still stern, but held a measure of concern.

The Kings kept their mouths shut. Bill heard the snap of a flashlight and then the low muttered curse. He saw the beam tracing the floor, getting closer to him. Man, the floor was dirty.

Bill blinked when Sikone came around the corner and shined the beam of light in his eyes.

"Hey, Captain," Bill said weakly.

Captain Sikone peered down at him. "Bill Pearce. What the hell have you gotten into? Monroe! Call for an ambulance, on the double! We've got a gunshot wound in here."

"You mind handin' me some of that bourbon? I could really use a shot," Bill said.

"It seems like you already got one," the Captain said, his voice stern. "Who shot you?"

"You know I can't tell you that," Bill said. "Unless I wanna get my ass kicked."

"You know you'll get it kicked if you don't," Sikone said, kneeling down and applying pressure over the wound, freeing Bill's tired, numb hand.

"Saw them River Kings breaking in here, and I couldn't let them do that," Bill whispered. "Stealing is wrong."

He tried not to laugh at Sikone's raised eyebrow and wary expression. "That never stopped you before."

"I walk with Jesus now," Bill said, getting into the spirit of the game, "I came in here, and this one guy, blond guy, asks what I'm doin'. I told them stealin' was wrong, but they didn't feel the same way. Blond guy shot me in the leg. His buddies were mad and told him to hightail it outta here. So he did. They stuck around for the beer. Them River Kings love their piss warm beer."

Bill was relieved to hear the sirens wailing. Moments later Captain Sikone moved out of the way and two paramedics came to take care of him. They loaded him onto a stretcher and Bill closed his eyes.

He suddenly imagined screeching rocket fire, gun bursts and screams, imagined himself in a field of elephant grass, clutching a rifle and bleeding from his leg, waiting for a medic to save him. Maybe Vietnam was overrated. If it was anything like bleeding on the floor of a liquor store, then it fucking sucked.

Maybe Tim was right. Maybe Tulsa was where he wanted to be. Hell, he had to stick around, just so he could blow a hole in Tim one day. Even if Tim was right about this Army thing, he was still going to shoot him one day. Just so he knew what it felt like.

Bill turned his head to the side and watched the River Kings being put into the police cars, their faces scowling masks. Shoot, they were in for an all out war. Good thing they thought it was Brumly that did this.

The neighbourhood was lit up red and blue and he heard radios squawking in the night. Somewhere, hidden in the dark of the run-down neighbourhood, Bill knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tim Shepard was watching as carefully as if they were loading his own brother into the ambulance.

Bill smiled as the doors shut.

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**A/N:** So that's Bill lol. For those unclear about how he felt ... he didn't have a choice about being drafted and decided to make the best of it and be happy to go. And then Tim stepped in lol. I think Bill's the type to go with the flow no matter what happens.


End file.
